Not the same, never the same
by Dianaprince89
Summary: They were only a foot away across the small table but Maura felt like she could just as easily be back in California and the distance between them would be the same. One-shot.


Maura was waiting for a red light on the corner of Boylston and Arlington, her small carry-on bag perched next to her. She was tired, a bone-deep weariness that never seemed to abate. She looked flawless, but life had taken a toll on her that she felt to the very depths of her soul.

That's when she saw Jane.

At first, Maura assumed it was her imagination. After all, in California she thought she saw Jane all the time.

This was probably the same thing.

But the apparition didn't disappear. When the light changed, Maura didn't move. Jane was crossing the street towards her, her expression entirely unreadable. Or perhaps it was just that Maura couldn't read her now, with all the distance between them, both physical as well as emotional.

For months, Maura had been practicing, imagining, planning this moment. Her scripted greetings ran the gamut from desperate pledges of her love to furious words of disdain. No matter- none of it seemed adequate now.

Jane stopped a few inches in front of Maura and the world around them rushed on but they were immobile. The eye in the storm of the world. It was nearly impossible for Maura to resist the urge to fidget.

"Hi," Jane's raspy voice greeted her, and it made Maura ache all over.

"Hello," Maura replied. She couldn't stop herself from staring. Jane looked amazing, just as good as Maura remembered. Part of her had been afraid she was building up Jane in her mind because of the distance between them- surely no woman could be as gorgeous, as irresistibly sexy, as Maura thought Jane was.

But she was.

Jane's eyes swept over Maura from head to toe, a slow, lingering trip as if she couldn't be sure Maura was really there.

"I heard you were in town," Jane said, her voice even.

Maura felt guilty but she wasn't entirely sure why. It's not as if they were friends.

"Yes," Maura nodded. "I'm leaving today. My flight is at five."

Jane glanced at her watch, but Maura had the feeling it was more to give herself something to do than to confirm the time.

It was a few minutes after noon.

"What are you doing until then?" Jane asked, and she furrowed her brow as if the fact that she'd asked confused her.

"I was going to have lunch with Vince and Frost," Maura admitted, another wave of guilt washing over her.

"Right," Jane shook her head as if to clear it out. "I knew that."

"You're welcome to join us," Maura couldn't keep the eagerness out of her voice, but it was tinged with sadness that neither of them could ignore.

"I can't," Jane sighed.

"Then just us," Maura offered, putting a soft hand on Jane's bicep. "Please?"

The imploring look in her eyes left her wide open and vulnerable but she'd never been able to restrain herself when it came to Jane. There was something about the lanky detective that spoke to Maura, touched her in places deep in her soul she hadn't even been aware existed.

Jane swallowed harshly, surveying the people around them without really seeing.

She was about to say no, to refuse, but Maura stepped so close their bodies were nearly touching.

"I miss you," she whispered. "I'm going back home to the west coast and I just…"

"Alright," Jane nodded slowly, noticeably increasing the physical space between them. Without further comment, Jane picked up Maura's bag and began walking. Maura fell into step beside her, their natural rhythm synching perfectly.

Jane led them to one of Maura's favorite cafes, still without speaking, almost without acknowledging her. When they were seated, menus in hand, Maura took a minute to appraise Jane again.

She looked good, that was still true, but she looked worn. Defeated. There were permanent circles under her eyes, a few lines on her face that hadn't been there the last time Maura saw her.

Maura ached to reach out and touch her, to use physical contact to close some of the enormous emotional gulf between them. But she hesitated- Jane was clearly not receptive to such a gesture.

Jane deferred to Maura when the waitress arrived, allowing Maura to order first. It was like the skeleton of their relationship was still there, still the same- Jane leading and then deferring, but the vital organs had all been removed.

While they waited for their food, Jane drifted off, her gaze unfocused.

"You look wonderful," Maura admitted finally, breaking the silence between them.

Jane didn't blush, didn't fidget or brush it off, and it startled Maura.

"Thank you," she replied. "You look good. California agrees with you."

Maura did blush, a habit she'd picked up only around Jane- having Jane think she looked good held disproportionate value to how she felt about what the rest of the world saw in her.

"Thank you," she responded. "How have you been?"

"Let's skip that stuff," Jane rumbled. "If you really wanted to know, you could have called. Emailed. Whatever."

"I was going to," Maura stammered. "I tried."

"Really?" Jane challenged, her eyes hard. "I must have missed all those phone calls, all those texts and emails, hell you coulda even asked my Ma' or Frost to contact me since you had no trouble getting through to them."

Maura heated under Jane's anger, under her scrutiny. She had no excuse, at least not one that would satisfy Jane, so she stayed quiet.

"If you don't want to speak to me," Maura whispered. "Why did you agree to have lunch with me?"

There was a long silence while Jane stared at Maura, anguish painted across her features, a dark despair deepening the normally chocolate hue of her eyes.

"I could never really say no to you," she rasped.

"That's not true," Maura countered sharply. "You said no."

Jane straightened in her chair.

"I said not _yet_," she defended herself.

"It seemed like not ever," Maura breathed, acutely aware of the melancholy in her voice, the way her body instinctively leaned towards Jane's for shelter and protection, despite the fact that it was Jane who was making her feel this way.

"Well it doesn't matter now," Jane shrugged, but it lacked conviction.

"I suppose not," Maura agreed. She wasn't sure what to say now. Wasn't sure how she was supposed to just sit in silence and eat her salad with _Jane_, of all people, right across the table and completely out of reach.

Jane didn't seem to be struggling. Her eyes took on the vacant far-away quality again and they lapsed into a painful, pregnant silence.

When the waitress brought their food, Maura was relieved. At least now she had something to do with her hands other than twist them under the table.

A few bites into her salad she became acutely aware of the way Jane was watching her. Or more specifically, the way Jane was looking at her lips. Maura flushed with desire, trying to tamp it down, to push it away, but Jane was staring openly at her mouth and it was making the edges of Maura's brain fuzzy.

"Jane," she exhaled a shaky breath, licking her lips subconsciously.

Jane's eyes darkened and then her eyes snapped to Maura's like she'd been broken out of a trance.

"Sorry," she said, busying herself with her meal.

They were only a foot away across the small table but Maura felt like she could just as easily be back in California and the distance between them would be the same.

"I meant what I said," Maura admitted. "You look wonderful. Just like I remembered." She hadn't meant to add the last part and Jane raised one eyebrow in response.

"You expected me to look different?" she asked, and there was genuine curiosity in her tone.

"Well yes," Maura stammered. "I mean no, not exactly. Sort of. Not different per se, it's just that it's been sixteen months. And you look…"

She trailed off, flustered.

Jane's lips were tilted up at the corners. It warmed Maura in a way she tried to ignore.

"Still the same," Jane's voice was light. "Just Jane."

"You were never '_just Jane_,' to me," Maura admonished softly.

Their eyes met and snared again, and Maura lost her appetite. She put down her fork and pushed the plate away.

"And still," Jane didn't look away from Maura's face. "That wasn't enough."

"You were always enough," Maura retorted vehemently.

"Right," Jane's voice was caustic and sharp. "That's why you moved to California. Because you had everything you wanted here, you figured you should just abandon it all and run away."

"I didn't run away," Maura snapped.

"Sure looked like running from where I was standing," Jane said, the accusation heavy in her words.

"Well you would know," Maura bit back.

Jane ducked her head, and Maura tried to slow her breathing, suddenly aware that she was panting.

"I'm sorry," Maura apologized. She didn't want to spend what might be the last time she saw Jane arguing. She wasn't sure what she wanted out of the few hours- and then her mind called her a liar.

She did know.

She wanted to spend the next hour with her body flush against Jane's, tangled up in the other woman so intricately that she would never be able to fully extricate herself.

"Don't be," Jane sighed. "You're right. I ran first."

To say Maura was shocked at the admission would have been to say the sun was warm. She knew it showed on her face because Jane shifted in her seat, bit her lip as if deciding whether or not to continue.

Maura hoped desperately that she would, if only so she could hear more of Jane's rich, gravelly voice.

"I pushed you away," Jane admitted. "I ran first. I was afraid, Maura. Terrified. I still am. But I didn't think you'd… I thought you were different. I thought we were friends."

"We were," Maura interrupted passionately. "We _are_. But when you said that you wouldn't… that you couldn't love me the way I wanted. How could I stay here to be constantly reminded of that? It was too much."

"I just thought maybe you'd fight for me," Jane's voice was so quiet, so timid, Maura wasn't even sure she'd spoken.

Maura wanted to accuse Jane of not fighting for her. She wanted to blame Jane for running away from what they could have been, what they could have had.

But it occurred to her that Jane was right. Maura was just as much to blame.

And the guilt swamped her.

"I'm sorry," Maura sobbed, her voice breaking as tears spilled forth. "You're right. I should have, I let you down and now look at us."

"Oh god," Jane rasped. "Please don't cry." Jane reached out, grabbing Maura's hand in hers. Maura clutched tightly, her body inclining towards Jane.

Maura tried not to, she really did, but the despair was overwhelming. Without warning, Jane was standing, pulling Maura into her arms. Maura wound her arms around Jane's neck, hanging on for dear life.

For dear life.

The phrase had never felt so accurate to Maura.

She buried her face in Jane's neck, trying to breathe and failing miserably.

Jane's hands held her tightly, soothing over her back, trying to calm and comfort her.

"Can we please go somewhere else," Maura cried. "I just want to be with you."

"Ok," Jane soothed. "Yeah, we're going now." She tossed a few bills on the table and Maura grabbed her bags, unwilling to relinquish her hold on Jane's hand, unwilling to cut the tie between them.

Jane led them out of the café and into a taxi and Maura followed blindly, her head buried in Jane's shoulder. In the cab, Maura sat as close as possible, their bodies flush against each other.

They pulled up in front of a brownstone a few minutes later and Jane led Maura inside. It must have been Jane's apartment but Maura didn't ask. She simply allowed Jane to guide her into a comfortable apartment that was distinctly _Jane_, and to coax her into sitting on the couch. When Jane tried to step away after Maura was sitting, Maura's hand stopped her.

"I'll be right back," Jane promised. "Just one second, ok?"

Maura nodded, wondering what had come over her. She was disintegrating right here in Boston. In less than 3 hours she was supposed to be boarding a plane home. But this felt like home- this, here, Jane's apartment and Jane's arms.

When Jane came back, she had a box of tissues and a glass of water.

"Just in case," she tried to tease but she was clearly uncomfortable. She stood in front of the couch awkwardly. Nervous.

Maura nodded, swallowing, trying to stem yet another wave of tears. When she failed, Jane sat down and pulled her into her arms in one fluid movement. Maura went more than willingly, burying her face yet again in the wild locks of Jane's hair.

"I'm so s-s-sorry," Maura said raggedly. "I never meant to hurt you."

"Shh," Jane coaxed. "It's ok."

"It's n-not ok," Maura shook her head against Jane. "Look at us."

"Alright," Jane agreed. "It's not great. But we can get through this."

"I have to go back," Maura whispered.

"I know," Jane replied. "I know, Maura."

"It will be miserable," Maura cried. "I don't want to lose you."

"Well," Jane tried for levity. "They have this great thing called the telephone. I hear they work pretty well, even from California."

"But it won't be the same," Maura pulled back to look Jane in the eye without relinquishing her hold on the other woman.

"No," Jane agreed. "It's not the same."

"It won't ever be the same, "Maura whispered.

They let the truth of it wash over them.

"No," Jane repeated. "It won't ever be the same."

And there it was. The stark reality that no matter what happened now, no matter what they said or did, things would never be remotely close to the way they once were.

"Will you take me to the airport?" Maura asked.

Jane nodded.

"But not yet," Maura added hastily, burrowing back against Jane's body.

"Not yet," Jane confirmed.

They stayed that way, Maura's unsteady breathing punctuating the silence, for almost an hour. Their hands were not still, but neither was brave enough to break the barrier of friendship. When Jane shifted to look at the clock, Maura had been so close to sleep that it startled her.

"Time to go," Jane's raspy voice filled the room.

Maura wanted to protest. To lie on the floor and throw a temper tantrum. To scream. To cry. To burrow so far into Jane that they became one person.

Instead, she allowed Jane to stand and leave the room. When she returned, Maura had fixed her make-up, tried to minimize the terrible, transparent anguish on her face.

"Ready?" Jane asked.

"No," Maura shook her head, but she followed Jane to the door anyways.

In the car, Maura let Jane lace their fingers together, their palms flush, even though it made her feel nauseous.

The ride to the airport felt interminable, and at every off-ramp they passed Maura held her breath, hoping Jane would drive them off to be together. That Jane would do what Maura hadn't had the strength to do before.

But they pulled up in front of the airport an hour before Maura's flight and Jane threw the car into park at the curbside. When she released Maura's hand and an unsteady breath, Maura opened her door and got out.

Jane met her on the opposite side of the car, and they stood looking at each other for long minutes.

Maura didn't know what to say. Nothing seemed adequate, and in the absence of something, _everything_ threatened to spill forth.

Jane seemed to understand, and she saved them both. Destroyed them both. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to Maura's. Immobile for a moment, Maura moaned into the contact and pulled Jane towards her by the lapels. Their arms encircled each other and Maura opened her mouth, Jane's tongue snaking inside to make her desperate.

It was their first kiss.

And their last.

The desperation was palpable, the desire nearly uncontrollable. It flared to life between them, threatening to consume them. But the anguish kept it in check.

Finally, Jane pulled back. She took Maura's face gently between her palms and kissed her forehead.

She pulled back and got in the car without a word, but Maura would have sworn she saw tears on Jane's face.

Maura picked up her bag and walked towards the airport doors, holding her breath in the hopes of hearing Jane call out to her, call her back, stop her from leaving. But the world around them rushed past and Jane's voice didn't find her ears.

Inside, Maura turned around and through the glass doors she could see Jane's silhouette behind the wheel of the car.

And Jane's words rang in Maura's head.

_It won't ever be the same._


End file.
